Heart of Chromium
by littlepatriot
Summary: The dead can speak if one listens. Captain Phasma's newfound reason to exist, in the form of a young Resistance officer, has been snuffed out. But does that momentary light in her hopeless existence really end? All is not as it seems and Phasma soon finds herself in a fight to protect a light she thought lost. A sequel to Phasma's Heart and Soul. Art by Chris Seekell.
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue: The Piercing Dark**

Darkness reigned over the hollow and still landscape. The bodies of those who had fallen cooling with the rise of the moon and the coming chill of night. Shiny white stood in stark contrast to the green uniforms that defined the Semian military regiments that had assaulted the position. The First Order victory here was absolute but a pyrrhic one. The Resistance had escaped due to the actions of a man—and a regiment—that now lay in the field.

Aboard an orbiting First Order cruiser, the commander of the First Order stormtroopers was nowhere to be found. In the officer's section of the great ship, angry, quiet sobs rattled through a desolate and dimly lit cabin. Strewn around the dark, polished floor were various components and pieces of chrome-plated armor, some coated in blood. Kneeling on the floor, head held in shaking hands, Captain Phasma pled to a force that she had never acknowledged, a power long held in contempt, to have just one more moment with her wayward, lost child. It seemed, however, that her silent cries were in vain.

* * *

The dark silence swam around him. Where was he? It sounded and felt like he was underwater as everything was muffled. Then suddenly it all stopped. Instantly, he found himself able to see and hear clearly, but he found that there was nothing to see and no sound to listen too. Where was he? Had he fallen past the event horizon of a black hole? Was this the famed singularity? Perhaps this was the afterlife? Was he in the realm of the Force?

"Hello!" He shouted with all his strength, throat burning in pain.

No response.

The darkness was suddenly blinding as a ball of light flashed into existence near him.

_What the kriff?_ He thought in sudden confusion.

The pulsating sphere of light did not move; it simply remained in a fixed position as it hovered above the ground. He slowly walked towards the strange sight in this very strange place. As he got closer, the ball began to increase in luminosity until, as he got within arm's length, it was nearly blinding. He backed away and the light began to dim.

_What in Sith hell is going on? Where am I? _He remembered his last thoughts before he awoke here: a loud crack above his head then blinding, split-second pain before a sudden end. Was this death? He had thought it would be a different place altogether…if the Semian folktales had been believed. Looking around at the all-encompassing darkness pierced by the glowing orb, it was obvious such tales were not true.

Still, how did he get out of here? He looked around, shrugged his shoulders, and began to walk into the solid black before him.

**Let me first just say that it is good to be back. Please treat this as a sequel to **_**Phasma's Heart and Soul.**_** I have spent to last few years thinking of that story and, while I think it ended in the most realistic way possible, I felt it left a lot of undeveloped relationships and characters. While we did see Will and Phasma interact, I felt like their relationship did not have enough space to properly develop and it seemed fragmented and unfinished by the end. While I do think that **_**Phasma's Heart and Soul's**_** portrayal of the Captain was a little too squishy and emotional at points, I will keep those characterizations for the sake of continuity. I spent the last few years reading some fanfiction but no longer writing as real-life obligations took much of my time away from me. I still don't have much time to write these days, but I felt that I should begin to publish what I have written. Please be advised that I will only be posting a few chapters every few months so updates will be infrequent and this story could take years to be completed. I appreciate all the reviews and favs Phasma's Heart and Soul has gotten. I never imagined such a story would be such a hit…perhaps it's a result of the terrible storyline in the new trilogy that seemingly includes Phasma as a character to just sell merchandise. **

**-LittleP**


	2. Of Nightmares and Memories

**Chapter 1: Of Nightmares and Memories **

"Captain Phasma," a curt, stern voice stated.

The chrome-armored stormtrooper captain simply turned her helmeted gaze upon the black-clad officer without saying a word.

The man appeared nervous, his breathing deep with eyes focused towards the floor—away from the captain.

Phasma's fearsome reputation, already preceding her, had only grown in the day or so since the battle on the moon below. She had already murdered Vlosh with her bare hands, and it seemed that everyone—even her superiors—took steps to avoid her.

For the captain herself, the past number of hours was excruciatingly painful. Sadness and heartbreak had transformed the once fearsome warrior into a shell these past few hours. Phasma felt like she was existing in a nightmare and had yet to wake up.

Captain Phasma was never, before her encounter with William Anders, one to feel many emotions other than those associated with anger, revenge, contemplation, self-preservation, and—sometimes—sadistic joy. Now, however, the long-forgotten feelings of longing and regret had begun to swarm through her hardened mental barriers, which had been built up through years of combat. William Anders had become an enigma early on: his assisting of an injured Trix piqued her curiosity—something that no one else had done. That interest grew into respect she gave to only a very select number of individuals throughout the galaxy.

How did Anders do it? How did he get to where he was?

The answer was very simple. Anders came into being because he was brought into life by one person: her.

The answer horrified her. She still remembered the day she found out that she and the now deceased Resistance colonel were related by blood. She would always remember it as a day that truly shocked her. However, that day now served, with the occurrences in the last few hours, as a sort of closure.

For decades she had wondered what had become of her nearly forgotten former life, and the two most important people in that life: her companion and her baby. One was clearly dead, she had confirmed as much, but the fate of the latter eluded her. This decades-long mystery continued until Will appeared and her life seemingly came full circle.

The most pressing question of the past twenty years had been answered.

* * *

The black surroundings closed around him as he walked. He had lost sight of the orb, despite only walking for what seemed to be just a few meters. It was as if the darkness was closing in around him. He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and continued.

Suddenly and without warning the orb flashed into existence in front of him. He stopped mid-step and threw his hands in front of his face to protect his eyes from the blinding light. The orb just levitated in place, its light growing dimmer by the second; it had, after a few seconds, dimmed enough for him to lower his hands.

What was this thing? Why was it following him?

He decided to test his luck (if ending up in this place could be described as luck) and reached his hand towards the luminesce sphere. As soon as his fingers contacted the object, everything went dark.

* * *

"Fire! For kriff's sakes fire!" A grey-clad lieutenant shouted at his platoon. Bolts of plasma screamed through the surrounding dense thicket, and glimpses of brown uniforms could be seen through the brambles and trees. The additional factor of morning mist did not aid in visibility.

"Sir, we can't see them. We must fall back!" A corporal shouted from cover behind a stump.

The lieutenant whipped around to face him—standing without cover as if having a death wish. "The brigade general ordered us to act as an advanced guard. We are the picket line of two-thirds of the Second Corps! We cannot simply break and run!" He then pointed his hand to the rear, seemingly oblivious to the bolts flying around him. "We have three divisions behind us with 11,000 soldiers. We cannot run!"

"But, sir," the corporal spoke, "we cannot hold this position! They've sent an entire brigade against two regiments! We're outnumbered two to one!"

The young lieutenant was about to respond when the corporal was struck by a bolt and collapsed to the ground.

* * *

The scene changed from one of battle to one of a more peaceful nature. The same young man, now wearing the uniform of a colonel, sat at the head of a table with military officers and civilian leaders seated along the sides. It appeared as if they were in a spirited discussion about something and kept looking towards him.

An older man wearing a grey uniform, his face lightly wrinkled, hair white, and eyes bright, turned towards the young colonel. "I am aware," the man was looking at him but seemed to be speaking to someone else, "of the societal beliefs about people like _him_, but he has shown time and again that he is worthy of promotion." The older officer's voice was calm but tinged with an undertone of irritation and frustration.

Sitting at the other end of the table, directly across from the young colonel, was a thin, stringy civilian man in formal attire: a politician.

He looked at the Colonel with a sneer on his face. "I don't think promoting him will be advantageous to victory. His forced promotion to colonel has already stirred resentment among many of our senior officers."

"Who?" The older officer, a general based on his shoulder straps and collar insignia, asked.

"I cannot say, General Lyon" the politician said with a small sly smirk.

"Minister," The general replied—exacerbated, "the fate of Semia is at stake, and we need all the talented officers we can get. I urge you to consider him for a promotion to brigade general."

The minister then turned towards a slightly younger woman in uniform next to the imploring general. "General Dowdon, how do you and your staff feel about this?"

The woman took a moment to respond. "Minister Lukesh, myself and my immediate subordinate, Lieutenant General Kalder, as well as his subordinate—who commands the Colonel's brigade, all feel that he not only deserves a promotion due to his actions, but our cause necessitates it."

The Minister, having heard the words from both the generals, sat in silent contemplation.

After a few silent moments, he looked at the young colonel and muttered his response.

"No."

The response was instantaneous. "I urge you to reconsider!" The older general shouted as he shot to his feet.

The minister was having none of it. "No. I—and the rest of the SEA—will not have this. It's too much that's he's already been allowed to be promoted to a colonel of the 10th Maziran Home Guards. Now, you ask me to promote an orphan to a brigade general? Absolutely not!"

The politician had stood up from his chair slowly and leveled a venomous glare at the Colonel, who sat still at the head of the table. "That man there will never amount to anything more than a living, breathing problem." He then turned his gaze towards the two generals. "And I implore you both to get rid of _it. _He will never fulfill his duty, and he will never be respected."

* * *

The memory flashed out of existence, and he found himself staggering back with a gasp. The orb no longer there, and the darkness was suffocating once more.


End file.
